What's In A Name?
by Lane Anasazi
Summary: Tom Riddle, age 16, visits the Chamber of Secrets one night to consult the basilisk on a most important matter: his brand-new, Very Scary new name.


**Disclaimer: It's J.K. Rowling's sandbox, I'm just playing in it.**

**Author's note: I have no idea if this has been done before. Short, sweet, funny (hopefully). Reviews always appreciated.  
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Tom Riddle muttered to himself in Parseltongue as he stalked down the dimly-lit cave toward the Chamber of Secrets.

"I don't care how useful Salazar's funhouse is, I'm not climbing through a smelly pipe and a _girl's bathroom_ again. That simply will not do."

He hissed at the entwined serpents on the smooth wall in front of him and it cracked open, revealing the long corridor and eerie green light of the Chamber. Tom walked down the row of serpent statues, his footsteps echoing up to the unseen ceiling.

"Speak to me, oh great monkey-headed statue of Slytherin!_"_

The statue's mouth ground open as Tom paced in front of it. "I really need to change that password," he muttered.

A giant basilisk, sixty feet of coiled, green death, slithered out from the statue's mouth and promptly ran headfirst into one of the columns with a loud, dull thud.

"I hate keeping my eyes closed," said Snakey.

"Well, that's just tough. It's a minor inconvenience for you, but there's the whole _instant death _thing for me, so on balance I'll thank you to just keep your eyes closed, Snakey."

"I hate my name. You're terrible at names."

"Well, yes. I am, yes, terrible at names. That's actually the subject of tonight's discussion."

"You mean instead of unleashing me on a school of terrified, unsuspecting children, you're going to give me a better name? Oh, today is a joyous occasion!" The basilisk rolled its eyes, a gesture that went woefully unnoticed by Tom given the fact that they were closed.

"Actually, I rather thought we could discuss _my _name."

"Your name is Tom."

"Ah, well, that's the problem, isn't it? Common, filthy name it is. A name passed down by my Mudblood father, a name unfit for a wizard of my caliber. Plus, it's just _tacky_. The Dark Lord Tom? Doesn't really inspire fear, does it? 'Oh, no, it's the Dark Lord Tom! Run for your lives!' – is a sentence you will never hear."

"I just heard it from you," pointed out Snakey, trying to master the art of sarcasm _sans _eye-rolling.

"Shut up."

"I don't think I will, thanks. I had no one to talk to for a thousand years, you know."

"That doesn't give you the right to be mean to me," said Tom, rapping the basilisk on the head with his wand like a teacher rapping the knuckles of an errant schoolboy.

Snakey turned away and coiled herself around one of the stone columns, sulking.

Tom coughed into his hand. "So, we were discussing my name. It should be powerful, and cool. It should make mere mortals tremble with fear."

"How about 'Dollface the Dark," said Snakey. "You're pretty terrified of dolls."

Riddle whirled on the basilisk in anger. "Everyone's afraid of dolls! They're blank-faced and creepy and speak with disembodied laughter when you pull a string in their back!"

"They're also what five year old girls play with."

"Well," said Tom nastily, "at least I'm not afraid of cocks."

Snakey uncoiled herself and stretched her length along the floor of the Chamber. "I don't get what's so funny about that," she said, pensive. "Ever since I told you that the cry of the rooster was fatal to me, you've never stopped laughing that I'm afraid of cocks."

"My friends thought it was pretty funny, too."

"You don't have any friends."

"Oh, right."

They both lapsed into silence. Tom clasped his yew wand and started idly tracing fiery letters in the air. He finished, and stared, brooding, at his name. TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE hung in the air in red, burning letters.

"So are you going to help me or not?" asked Tom.

Snakey sighed, which coming from a sixty foot basilisk was a disturbing sound indeed. "Fine, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to bounce some ideas off you," said Tom eagerly. He took a few steps back and waved his wand in a complicated pattern. "_Anagramma_."

"Oh, now THERE'S a useful spell," muttered Snakey.

The letters fluttered and shifted, re-arranging themselves.

I AM ODD TROLL MOVER

Tom peeked over his shoulder, waiting for Snakey to say something. "Well, what do you think?" he asked impatiently.

"Of what? I can't see anything, idiot."

"Right. Well, I suppose I'll have to just tell you. Honestly, it was a lot cooler with the fiery letters." Tom nervously repeated the words hanging in the air.

"No," said the basilisk.

"That's all you have to say?"

"_Hell _no."

"I thought it sounded kind of mysterious."

"It sounds like you're a pervert who moves trolls. Next."

Tom waved his wand again. The letters moved again.

I AM MOLD DOLT ROVER

"Definitely not," said Snakey after Tom conveyed the words to her. "I think you should cross anything off straightway that has the word 'mold' in it." Tom sighed and again the letters re-arranged themselves.

I AM LORD DOLT REVOM

"See, that's just setting yourself up for failure," said Snakey. "You have to think about the shorter versions. People will definitely call you Lord Dolt."

"I thought it sounded like some kind of ancient Scottish king," muttered Tom. "You know, 'Dolt Revom, Lord of the Westerly Isles."

"That's really just staggeringly dumb," said Snakey. Tom angrily swished his wand again.

I AM LORD MOLD VOTER

"I like the lord thing, but I'm not sure you really grasp the concept of what a darkly cool name should be," said Snakey. "I mean, what the hell is a 'mold voter?' Is it someone who votes for mold-based issues? Is it a sentient mold that also votes? Either one is pretty stupid."

"Well, you try coming up with one!" snapped Tom. "It's not easy. My name has some unfortunate letters."

"Why does it have to be an anagram of your name, anyway? You hate your name. Why would you even let it have an impact on your new one? Why not just called yourself Lord Blackskull Burnface and be done with it?"

"I have this whole plan of dramatically revealing my identity by showing someone how 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' can be rearranged to spell my new name," said Tom. "Besides, Lord Blackskull Burnface sounds like I have a burnt face. That's not a good name."

"Fine, let's here some more of your suggestions. Maybe you were saving the best for last?" asked Snakey hopefully.

I AM LORD ROD VOLT'EM

"Yes. Yes. That's the one."

"Really?" asked Tom dubiously. "That was my least favorite. Bella said it sounded like a porn star name."

"Well, what does Bella know, anyway? You told me she was the one who laughed the hardest when you told her I was afraid of cocks, and that still doesn't make any sense."

"Hmm," said Tom. "You might be right. Bella does seem to have a screw loose. When I first told her I could talk to snakes, she got really excited and asked me if I could get one to - "

"I don't ever need to hear that particular story again, thanks," said Snakey, shuddering. "So, Lord Rod Volt'em, how does it sound?"

"Well, let me check." Tom cleared his throat, then tapped his wand against it. "_Sonorus." _His voice boomed out across the Chamber, rattling the bones on the floor. "_Kneel, worms before the glory that is the Dark Lord Rod Volt'Em_."

Snakey hissed in admiration. "Yep, that's the winner."

Tom, or rather, Lord Rod Volt'em, ended the spell and turned back to Snakey, beaming. "Well, I'm glad that's settled. Now, I think we can turn our attention to your own name…"

He turned back and scribed the words SLYTHERIN'S BASILISK into the air and Snakey cracked an eyelid and watched, horrified, as they re-arranged themselves into BALLSIER HISS STINKEY.

"Bugger," said the basilisk.


End file.
